


Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die For Me

by Dixon_Winchester



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drama, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Wedding Gone to Hell Real Quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dixon_Winchester/pseuds/Dixon_Winchester
Summary: Instead of "Will you marry me?" it should be "Would you bury me?" because watching Dean and Daryl stand at the altar and declare their vows only makes me think that this is more of a funeral than a wedding. [Sam W. POV]





	Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die For Me

This one time, I jumped off the roof of a shed cause I thought Batman could fly. I learned that he in fact couldn’t and that a broken arm is no laughing matter. I sobbed for hours.

Oh, but then, this other time, my brother Dean had adopted a puppy from the shelter. All bright smiles as he handed it to me and I already loved it more than anything else in the world in the two hours I had it. When dad came home, he had Dean use it as target practice. I don’t know if that hurt me more or Dean.

This time though might actually top those and they were pretty bad. The shotgun wielding psycho fires off another shot, shattering a vase on the altar as Daryl throws himself to the floor just in time to avoid getting his head blown off.

Scratch that, this is easily the worse. 

People are screaming, scrambling to escape and it all reminds me of a really over-the-top soap opera, except the maniac with the shotgun is my father and the bride-to-be, uh - groom, is my brother.

I’m pretty sure that somewhere in the distance I can hear Lucifer cackling at the whole mess.

I should probably start from the beginning:

The place stinks of cigarettes and bad choices. Dean keeps wrinkling his nose at the smell, Daryl seemingly unaffected. I’m with Dean on that matter though, waving my hand in front of my face as I tug at the bow tie around my neck, it’s cheap material no doubt going to leave me with a rash or something. Merle in the corner smoking away like a chimney isn’t helping matters much.

Merle is here on behalf of his little brother, looking none too happy about the wedding. Oh yes, it’s a wedding, with just four people, if you don’t count the priest and the other couples waiting in the benches for their turn. At least they look impatient to tie the knot, but my brother and Daryl barely look at each other, here because of some twisted sense of obligation, or at least that’s what they believe. The only thing harder than Dean’s head is Daryl’s and that’s saying something.

The younger Dixon is chewing at his thumbnail, glancing between the priest, Dean, and the church doors. I wonder if he’ll make a run for it, but as I catch Dean swaying a little, I reach out and place a hand on his back, steadying him. Great, one is about to bolt and the other is about to pass out.

The priest clears his throat, finally sober enough to get this show on the road. I’m ready to shrug of this damn suit and by the look on the others faces, I’m not the only one.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today. . .”

That’s about how far I get before my ears filter out the bullshit. Dean is really rubbing off on me. Glancing around at their faces, you’d think they were at a funeral rather than a wedding.

Dean is staring straight ahead, ever the trained soldier as he stands at attention, arms stiff at his sides like if a drill sergeant were breathing down his face. Daryl, on the other hand, is staring down at his ratty sneakers, thumb still between his teeth even as he draws blood. Merle is on a whole other planet, making eyes at one of the other brides waiting for her turn.

“Do any of you have vows?” the priest asks, looking between Dean and Daryl.

Dean glances over at Daryl, the older boy shrugging in response before they both turn to the priest and shake their heads.

Seriously? They could have at least gotten vows from the internet or something. Sheesh.

The priest leans over to the younger Dixon then, whispering, “What’s your name again?”

The blue eyed boy narrows his eyes at the old man, lips pressed into a thin line as he mumbles, “Daryl.”

“Daryl,” the priest repeats as if he knew it all along. “Do you take-” he cuts himself off again and looks over at my brother.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Dean,” my brother supplies, voice flat, not missing a beat.

“Daryl, do you take Dean to be your lawfully wedded…” the priest trails off and I wonder if this guy got his license on some cheap online site or something. I’m pretty sure he did, but he can at least read the murderous look on Dean’s face as he finishes with, “...husband?”

A survivor, that one.

“I do,” Daryl is quick to answer, and the way he says it makes both me and Dean blink in surprise. 

He sounds so honest, sky blue eyes staring into my brother’s emerald green and I can see the walls come down, even if just a little. Dean wants to believe him. 

I do too.

“Dean,” the priest turns to him next. “Do you take Daryl to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Daryl’s blue hadn’t moved from Dean’s, the longest I’ve ever seen them look at each other.

“I do,” Dean states, none of that emotionless crap our dad trained into him. His voice trembles, like if he realizes this is do or die.

And suddenly I’m unable to look away from them, heart beating loud in my chest as I see them slowly lean in towards each other. Daryl reaches out and takes Dean’s hand in his, fingers interlacing as my brother gives him a squeeze in return. 

They’re both scared. I can see it in the way Dean’s eyes shine despite the dim fluorescent lights and the way Daryl’s jaw is clenched, adam’s apple moving as he swallows thickly, but even so, they don’t tear their gazes away from each other.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were looking at each other with love, but that isn’t an emotion easily capable for either of them. Still, the hope is there, and I find myself wishing that be the case, especially with the way they are so close now that their noses bump, like if they can’t wait for the priest to finish flapping his jaw.

They’re looking like they fell in love tonight. Right here. Right now. Standing there on that altar about to take that giant leap and tie their lives together in more ways than one.

If anyone can do it, it’s them.

With bated breath, I finally hear the priest say, “You may kiss the bride.”

I tune him out, sure that Dean and Daryl are lost in each other’s eyes or else they would have rounded on the man and ratted his ass out for referring to either of them as the bride. 

Not even inches away, I hold my breath and...

And that’s when all hell breaks loose. The door to the little chapel is blown open, wood pieces flying across the aisle as the occupants all shout in surprise.

John Winchester steps through the doorway, shotgun in his hands. This is pretty much where I instinctively reach out to Dean, my brother already reaching back for me as our father fires off another shot, Daryl throwing himself to the floor as the vase shatters.

The priest screams, all high pitched as he also throws himself to the floor, but I don’t have half a mind to pay him as I feel Dean pull me forward. 

Merle is grabbing Daryl, trying to drag him across the floor and behind the safety of a bench as John shoves two bullets into the chambers of the shotgun.

“Dixon!” John’s voice booms, fear coursing through me at how absolutely furious he sounds.

“You crazy bastard!” Merle shouts, smartly not lifting his head to peek over the bench. “Tryin’ to kill my brother?”

Dean doesn’t let go of my wrist as he pulls me along, reaching out to grab Daryl by the arm. Merle’s grip tightens on his little brother before he realizes it’s Dean. Almost as if sharing some kind telepathic conversation that only older brothers could understand, Dean and Merle nod at each other before the older Dixon releases his hold on Daryl, letting Dean lead us both around the altar and out the back door. 

“Dean!” I hear my father scream, but Dean doesn’t stop, gravel crunching under our shoes as we hightail it back to the car.

I can hear Merle shouting, most likely trying to distract John, but my father won’t hesitate to put a bullet in him too. He’s a Dixon.

Dean shoves me around the hood of the Impala, pulling the door open as I scramble to get into the passenger side, Daryl on my heels. I climb over onto the backseat, still somehow finding it in me to be careful not to place the bottom of my shoes on the seats in fear of dirtying the Impala, falling onto my face as Daryl jumps into the passenger seat, foot barely in before Dean is starting the engine and putting the petal to the medal.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, my brain helpfully supplies that dad will be double the furious when he finds out Dean stole the Impala too, if he doesn’t know that already.

“Merle!” Daryl shouts, reaching out to grab my brother’s arm, eyes wide in panic.

Almost as if summoned, Merle comes running out the back door, Dean having to step on the brakes to avoid hitting him. The older Dixon slides across the hood, Daryl scrambling to climb into the backseat with me as his older brother yanks the door open and jumps in. 

John is at the door in less than a second, Dean revving the Impala like I’d never heard him do before as he peels away, kicking up gravel as he goes.

“Get down!” Merle shouts and I don’t think it twice, ducking down just as the rear glass of the Impala shatters.

Dad is shooting at us!

Daryl is laying on top of me and I absently realize that my father doesn’t care that I’m back here with him just as long as he can kill him. That’s how furious my father is. How off the deep end he is. 

And I realize with bone chilling horror that there is no chance to save this. Any of this. This is our lives now. On the run. Hiding. 

There’s no going back and when Dean and Daryl had decided to do this, they knew full well that would be the case.

**Author's Note:**

> And here you go, a little something in celebration of the new season of Supernatural and The Walking Dead finally airing!
> 
> Also, now that Sleepwalking is wrapping up, this also serves as a little something based on an AU we’re working on next. It’s not really a sneak peak since we may or may not go down the road that may lead to these events. I was listening to “Black Wedding” by Meg and Dia and it came to me. Also playing with POV a little. Gotta love Sammy.


End file.
